03 August 2005

the psychology of karaoke

finally!! i get a chance to get on the computer. on the positive side, rich has been working fast and furious this past week so, hopefully, we'll have some money to pay a few bills around here. god, i hate the self-employed payment system or the lack thereof. i remind rich everyday that we need to get techno geeky and network this f***ed up system we have so i can quit driving him nuts asking "when can i get on? man, i've gotta get on that computer or i'm going to miss something!" oh, well, i will have a ton of computer time next week. it seems rich is now jetting off to maryland for his old architecture firm to survey a limited store and to catch up on sleep, drink to his hearts content and have some peace and quiet without us!! whatever, please don't leave me with the kids all by myself. day and night!!!! i better stock up on the alcohol and xanax for his lengthy time away.

last night was a slightly anticipated night out with the girls. i personally hate the term "girls night out." the phrase sounds silly and let's face it, we're really not girls anymore but, then again, "women's night out" sounds old and matronly, where you sit in a rocking chair circle knitting blankets for the poor indian babies that you see on late night t.v. anyway, we (my sister-in-law and my brother-in-law's girlfriend and i) met at a nice restaurant for dinner or what i thought was going to be dinner. you know, if you know me at all, i love to eat. so, don't invite me to a yummy place to eat and then torture me with the menu sitting a few inches away taunting me only to have drinks, a smidgen of crab dip and then say "let's go to the next place." this is also why these girls are so skinny. they skip the food and go straight for the alcohol. i love love love alcohol but also love love love food.

anyway, as the evening wore on three more girls added themselves to the mix. let's just say they are slightly rough. rough really doesn't even describe them. rough with a little bit of southern trash mixed up into four individuals would best describe them. after drinking a crap load more and visiting a few more bars later, we ended up a total meat market bar to get our karaoke on. i should first point out that i don't take myself seriously when i karaoke. when it was my turn to sing i chose my standard "i'm just a girl" by no doubt. i guess the girls thought i would be too timid to sing on my own (they don't know me very well) and they wanted to join me up on the stage to show off their "assets" and singing wasn't one of them. i can fuck up a song great on my own by standing like a wooden mannequin with no charisma on stage or by forgetting how to read the blurry monitor out of sheer ass panic because i'm tanking like the titanic in frozen waters. this time i was totally out of my element. everyone on stage started screaming into the microphone and bumping and grinding each other with another chick dirty dancing against me, around me, above me and behind me while i am crouching in a fetal position just trying to get a glimpse of the monitor thru the writhing bodies to save face and get through the long ass song. i totally felt violated while the bumpee behind me screamed "you pushed me off while i was getting my grove on. wasn't it sexy?!" um.....NO!!!!!!!! and....EEWWW!!!! a karaoke porn movie would've been cleaner.

as i huddled back in my seat and drank more to erase the ickiness of it all, i studied the subsequent fellow karaokers and realized "the incident" was after all the best performance of the night. you see, you've got the narcissistic, serious, nazi karaokers who sit on the edge of their seat impatiently waiting for their turn to get up on stage to perform their serious rendition of whitney houston's "i will always love you." they have looks disgust on their faces when others mess up their lines and roll their eyes and snicker when you sing off key. i totally bet large sums of non existent money they were in show choir in school and miss the spot light of singing at the cheesy high school talent shows and assemblies.

another class of performers are the drunk cowboy wannabees that feel that everyone's senses should be maimed and tortured with their slobbery screaming rendition of garth brooks "i've got friends in low places." garth brooks retired and so should they.

my favorite is the strange old coot who looks like he could stroke out on stage any minute. he usually has the old suede vest with some non descript snap on plaid shirt, cowboy boots, and a long grey braid trailing down his back. they're the real show stoppers. they perform with a real longing for days gone by, promises not kept and dreams not fulfilled wrapped up in an old blues or soul song that makes you think, man, i can see your sorrow dripping down your sleeves of life and i would do anything humanly possible to save my girls from going through that kind of pain and torment.